Harry Potter and the Seer
by Silver Lighting
Summary: **Edited! Changed a few things, you might want to re-read before going on.**Harry stays with Snape for the summer. While there, Harry finds out secerts that are better left locked away.
1. Letters

Chapter 1: Letters   
By, Silver Lighting  
  
Summers were nothing to brag about when you lived with Vernon Dursley, his wife Petunia, and their son, Dudley. Double that if you went to Hogworts, school of witchcraft and wizardly. Most of the time you might spend in the smallest bedroom upstairs. The other half of the time, you might spend cleaning or working out in the hot sun. This was just the way one boy spends his summer vacation. His name was Harry Potter. And if he had his way, school would never end.   
  
However, lately he'd started to think the unthinkable. If he'd never had gone to Hogworts, he'd never had known that he was a part of something big.  
  
You see, Harry was no ordinary boy, not even by wizard-standers. When he was very young, Harry's mother and father were killed. No, not in a car wreak, like he had thought for 11 years of his short life. Lily and James Potter had been murdered. Not by an ordinary men, but a mad man. A man that witches and wizards still feared to speak of. Lord Voldemort.   
  
But when Voldemort had tried to kill Harry, something went wrong. No one knows for sure what happened. Some say that Lily and James loved their son so much that when Voldemort tried to kill him, his parents love reached beyond the grave and "defeated" him.  
  
Whatever it was that stopped Voldemort, some say, we'll never know. For after that night he fled, leaving Harry with only a lighting blot scar and an Aunt and Uncle who didn't want him.   
  
So that's how Harry got to where he is. He learned from a giant named Hagrid that he was a wizard, and had gone off to school a few weeks later. Sometimes, when he was at school, he'd still wake up and think it was all just a long dream. But then he'd think about all the pain he'd gone through and know it wasn't a dream, but real.   
  
Everyone thought that Harry was some kind of saint because he'd "killed" Voldemort. What they didn't know was that the Ministary of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was hiding a dark secret.  
  
Harry lay awake on his bed in the smallest bedroom and stared up at the plain white ceiling. You may think that he should be sound asleep like every other boy at one o'clock in the morning. But Harry's dreams were filled with graveyards, Death Eaters, Voldemort, and evil that was so strong that he tasted it in his mouth, its bitter taste with him all day, remanding him of that night he longed to forget. Sometimes, he heard voices that sound as if they were being whispered in his ear. That was the part he hated most, hearing people talking to him and telling him that it was all his fault, being trapped in darkness while they accused him of the unthinkable.   
  
So Harry stayed wake and in doing so, he became one of the many prisoners of insomnia. Dark circulates were ever present under green eyes that had taking on a dull, faded look. To anyone that look, they would think Harry had lost his only best friend. Even his Uncle and Aunt had noticed that something was troubling him, and they never looked at him if they could avoid it.   
  
Suddenly, there was a soft tapping on his window. Lifting his head off the pillow, Harry saw that it was his owl, Hedwig. Standing, he pulled his shirt down where it had bunched up above his jeans from ling on the twin bed. He walked over to the window, his movements slow and sluggish.   
  
"Hey girl," he said as she came in the window followed by 3 other owls. One was small and looked like a tennis ball with feathers. This one, he knew, was his best friend Ron's owl, Pig. The second owl was black, without a hint of lightness to it. The last owl looked like a school owl.   
  
The minute Harry removed the thinly folded letter from the leg of the black owl, it jumped to Hedwig's cage for a tiny sip of water, then took flight into the night. The school owl dropped two letters on to his bed, then headed the same route the black one had taken; getting a sip of Hedwig's water before heading out into the cool night air.   
  
Pig had a tiny package and a note with him, but after Harry removed them, he hopped into Hedwig's cage, and was fast asleep within minutes. Finally, Hedwig herself lay one lone letter into his open hand before joining Pig and falling asleep as well.   
  
Putting the letters into a small stack the order in which they had been giving to him, Harry opened the small one that the black owl had left him. He didn't know the hand writing, but that really didn't bother him. What *did* trouble him was what the letter said.   
  
H. Potter,  
  
Envy rises  
  
Death multiples   
  
Days are numbered  
  
Sides are taken,  
  
Lightness vs. Darkness,  
  
Choose well.   
  
  
After Harry read the word "well", the letter burst into a ball of black flames. Startled, Harry dropped it and watched as it fell to the carpeted floor. It consumed itself before turning into orb of dust. The wind from the open window picked up the ashes and carried them into the darkness, disappearing within seconds.   
  
Kneeling down, Harry ran his open hand over the spot where the letter had burnt itself out. The plain-Jane brown carpet was cool and soft to the touch. Not an inch was chard, or in any way damaged that he could tell.   
  
Standing back up, he walked over to his desk and wrote the poem down, thinking that he might need to see it again and making a mental note to himself to think some more about it later.   
  
Walking back over to the bed, he opened the first letter that the school had giving him. It was the same old letter he got every year, from Professor McGonagall, with the book list of what he would need this year. The next was from Hagrid, the Hogwart's game keeper.   
  
Harry,   
Happy Birthday!  
Hope the Muggles are treating ya ok and that all is fine.  
Dumbledore sends his regards.   
All the best,  
Hagrid  
  
A small smile lifted the corners of Harry's mouth as he finished reading the letter. How he missed everyone!  
  
Sitting aside the two letters, Harry picked up the letter Pig had given him.   
  
Harry,   
Happy 15th birthday!!!!  
Hermione's here and mom and dad wrote to Dumbledore to ask if you can come. No word let. Hope you can come. If you ever get tried of staying with the Muggles, just write and me and Fred and George will come and get you.   
*Under Ron's messy writing was Hermione's neat and perfect script.*  
Don't listen to him, Harry, his just going on and on, you know how he is. Hope you like the gift we got you.   
Love From,   
Hermione *beside this was an untidy* and Ron  
  
Sitting the letter down, Harry reached for the tiny package and pulled the dark brown paper from it. It was, not surprisingly, a book, intitled, Down Falls of The Great. It looked really old and the leather cover was frayed in many places. Opening up the cover, Harry saw a lot of numbers and letters wrote across the top of the dull colored inside and spilling onto the other colored page. Under this was another note from Hermione and Ron.   
  
It was Hermione's idea to get you a book. (In Ron's wrting, then beside that, Hermione's.) I thought that Harry would like it, you're mentioned in it, by the way. Page 74.   
  
Shaking his head at their bichering, even in a letter, Harry sat the book down; he'd read it later. Then he noticed the last letter, the one Hedwig had brought. It was from Sirius Black, Harry's god-father.   
  
Harry,   
Things are well here and hope they are at the Dursleys'. My hope is that this year I can prove myself innocent. I have been getting files and help from old friends through most of this summer. Maybe, after your 5th year, you can come home to me, instead of those vile Muggles. This is my hope, anyway.   
Happy Birthday, I hope this letter reached you in time for it. I have nothing to give you, but hopefully soon.   
Sirius  
  
Harry's heart lifted for the first time since the middle of his 4th year at Hogwarts. If Sirius was free, he'd never have to see this dull, lifeless bedroom again. Never have to see the Dursleys' again. Never have to see Privet Drive again.   
  
Slowly, Harry climbed back into bed; he'd write everyone back later to thank them. Now, however, he was filled with a great sleepiness, that which he'd thought he'd never again feel. Holding Sirius's letter in his right hand, Harry pulled his shoes off and fell into a dreamless sleep. 


	2. Surprises

Chapter 2 Surprises  
By, Silver Lighting  
  
"Harry Potter! You get yourself down here! Now!" screamed the voice of Petunia Dursley. Harry pulled himself slowly out of bed, then walked barefoot down the stairs toward the spotless kitchen. What he saw there stopped him dead.   
  
There, sitting in Harry's usual spot across from Dudley, was none other then Headmaster Dumbledore. The first thought that entered Harry's mind was that something had happened to Sirius. The Headmaster must have noticed Harry's paleness, because he said, "Nothing has happened, Harry. But I'm afraid I do carry… unwanted news." Turning toward where Vernon sat, Dumbledore said, "Harry and I need to talk privately, if you don't mind," his grave voice said that he didn't care if they minded or not.   
  
To Harry's great surprise, Vernon stood and walked Dudley and Petunia out of the kitchen, closing the door softly behind them.   
  
"What--" he started, only to be stopped when Dumbledore held up his hand.   
  
"Please, Harry," he whispered, his voice sounding as close to pleading as Harry had ever heard it, "please, just listen for a moment." At Harry's nod, he drew in a deep breath and continued, "Things that I never thought possible are happening, Harry. People are dieing for no reason that anyone can think about. Their just falling over dead. No, it's not the killing curse. No one can explain it. The only thing we have to go on is a tiny clue left with each body." Reaching into his dark green robes, he pulled out a tiny object, covered with white cloth. "This is all we have." Slowly, he held his hand out to Harry and watched as Harry stared at his hand as if it were a sharp fanged beast.   
  
Harry gazed at the cloth for what felt like an eternity before extending his own hand to take it. Leisurely, he unfolded the cloth, pulling it back to see what lay under.   
  
For a second time that day, he was stopped dead by what he saw. Inside the cloth, wrapped like the most precarious of all things, was a tiny doll. It was a boy, a black haired, green eyed boy doll. But what scared Harry the most was on the doll's forehead. In the same place as Harry's, the doll carried a lighting blot scar. Only this one had red coloring under it, as if it were bleeding.   
  
Harry felt a all too familiar pain zip down his scar as he touched the scar on the doll. Holding it tightly in his hand, he doubled over, barely hearing Dumbledore cry out in surprise before felling two strong hands take his shoulders. "Harry! Harry, you must look at me!" he heard as if from a great distance. But he was afraid. Afraid of what he would find if he looked up.   
  
The same hands that were on his shoulders started to shake him, trying to pull him out of whatever darkness he was in. The doll was jerked out of his hands. As if someone had flicked a light switch, Harry stood up straight, looking at Dumbledore with hell in his eyes.   
  
"What the hell is that?" Harry asked in a deadly clam voice, staring at the fallen doll, which laying peacefully face down on the cold, tile floor.  
  
"Harry," the Headmaster started, "We don't know, it's some kind of dark magic. So dark that no one has ever seen it before." Turning to make sure the door was firmly shut, he said, "Harry, you have to leave this house. Today. Now." Reaching a wary hand out, Dumbledore used a bit of cloth to wipe away the blood that had leaked out of Harry's scar, just like the doll's. "Go, get your things, I must speak with your anut and uncle."   
  
Harry didn't need telling twice. He turned, opened the door and walk as calmly as you please past the living room and toward the stairs, then heading up them toward his room. Once there, he got all his things together and closed his trunk, then pulled on an old, beatup pair of sneakers. He looked one last time around the room. It as only when he reached the door that he stopped, dropped his trunk, walk back to the bed, reached under the bed to the lose floor board, finally pulling out the old, ratty pillow case that was hidden there, he opened his trunk and gently sat it down in the center of the trunk, closed it and headed back to the kitchen, where Dumbledore was sitting with Vernon and Petunia, Dudley was most likely in his room, hiding from the unknown wizard.   
  
Dumbledore stood when he spotted Harry. "Ready to go?"  
  
"Where *am* I going?" Harry asked as Dumbledore waved his wand, making Harry's trunk flot into the living room.   
  
"Well, I know you won't want to come if I tell you, so you'll have to wait till we get there." was the answer he got, with Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkling down at him.   
  
"*How* are we getting there?" Harry asked with dread as Dumbledore stepped over to the fire place.   
  
With another wave of his wand, Dumbledore removed the fake set up that had just been repaired two years ago. "Floo powder." Inwardly Harry groaned; he *hated* this kind of travel.  
  
"Come on, Harry. You go and I'll apparate there after I fix this fire place back." Easily, he started a fire, then reached into his robes and pulled out a small satchel. "Here you go. Just say 'S.S. Manor.'" With that, he gave Harry a small push and handed him the satchel.   
  
Here goes nothing, Harry thought, throwing a hand full of the powder into the fire. It turned a soft green as Harry stepped in with Hedwig's cage, who was out hunting at the moment. "S.S. Manor!" he shouted, then closed his eyes at the whirling colors.   
  
When he felt himself slowing down, he fell out.   
  
And found himself looking up into the black, bottomless eyes of a *really* annoyed Severus Snape.  
  
Oh crap, was the first thought that came into his mind. 


	3. S.S. Manor

Chapter 3 S.S. Manor  
By, Silver Lighting  
  
'Oh carp' was, in Harry's mind, the perfect way to think about staying with Snape for the summer. He had barely gotten out of the massive stone fire place before it 'hit the fan,' so to speak.   
  
"Potter! What do you think your doing?!" Snape yelled at him. His greasy black hair now had a fine line of gray on one side, where some of the soot had blown up at him. He was presently looking down his hooked nose at Harry, who looked quite peculiar standing on the clean wood floor covered in ash.   
  
Looking Snape right in his bottomless, black eyes, Harry answered, "I was told by Headmaster Dumbledore to come here, by way of Floo powder."   
  
Just then, there was a audible 'pop' and the Headmaster himself stood beside Harry. "Hello Severus. I trust all is well?" Acting as if there *wasn't* a noticeable tension between student and teacher, Dumbledore walked over to one of the dark, green wing back chairs that faced the fire place and sat down slowly. "Did you get my owl?"  
  
"What owl?" Snape said, walking over to the chair that faced Dumbledore, leaving Harry to stand and look around at the bookshelves filled with gloomy leather bond books. From what Harry could see, most were about the dark arts, with titles like, 'When the Great Fall', and 'Dark Lords and their Powers'. Harry got a shiver just thinking about some of the things in these books. Turning back to the two elders, Harry listened in on their conversation.   
  
"I sent you an owl this morning, it should have been here by now, . . . Oh! There it is!" With the glee of a young child, Dumbledore jumped from his seat and walked past Harry, toward the large floor to ceiling window, throwing it open and letting in a brown owl. Sure enough, there, tied to it's leg, was a letter with the words, 'S.S.' wrote across the top.  
  
"A little late, don't you think?" Snape sneered.  
  
"Oh well, its an old owl." And it was. If Harry didn't know better, he'd think that Dumbledore had used an elderly owl so that Snape wouldn't get the letter in time to refuse. But the Headmaster wouldn't do that…..Would he?  
  
~*~*  
  
The black sky was alit with many white stars, shining brightly to unknown peoples. Harry was currently in one of the many bedrooms that covered the 3rd floor of Snape Manor. He'd watched as Snape had used every argument he had to get out of watching Harry for the next two mouths. But, as the Americans' say, no dice. So two people that wanted nothing to do with each other were left to avoid and remain out of each others way.   
  
After the Headmaster had left, Snape had told him, very softly, "You will go into no room but yours, the study and library, the kitchen and dinning area. Otherwise, I'd best not catch you sneaking around like you do at school. Is that understood?"  
  
To which Harry had looked up at him with his dull, green eyes and nodded his head, before turning and going up the finely craved staircase, joining the nervous house elf who was to show him to his room, leaving behind a narrowed eyed professor and a quiet, tension filled room.  
  
That was the last time he'd seen the professor, sometime around noon, and now it was an hour past midnight. The rolling in his stomach told him that he hadn't eaten anything all day.  
  
Walking in his slow manner, Harry made his way out of his room, down the hall, where he passed many dust covered doors, to the main staircase. After reaching the main floor, Harry made a left, going in the opposite direction of the study. Walking past the huge dinning area, Harry found a revolving door that he assumed lead into the kitchen. Pushing his way in, Harry found that he was right; a few feet in front of him was an old timely ice box, a black, wood-burning stove, and a cutting block island. The picture the kitchen made was very homely. Harry figured that Snape never came in here much.   
  
Thinking that no one would mind, Harry got a loft of bread, some cheese and a small bit of ham. Also, in the ice box, he found some bottles of butterbeer. Taking only one, and his sandwich, which was tightly wrapped in two napkins, Harry was making sure his mess was cleaned up when he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him.   
  
"Potter, why aren't you in bed?" asked Snape, as he stared down at Harry's stiff back.   
  
Harry turned around very slowly and looked up at his postions professor dispassionately. Holding up his hands, he stated the obvious. "I got hungry, sir."   
  
"Didn't you have dinner? Their was enough for you." This was said in a tone that someone who cared might use. Harry didn't understand the older man's sudden change of heart. Then he remembered what the headmaster had told Snape in a hushed whisper before he'd left. "His uncle says his not eating and he never sleeps. His aunt says that she's find napkins filled with food in the trash; says that he was making it look like he was eating when he wasn't. Just make sure he eats something." That was all Harry had heard before he'd turned away, not wishing to hear the two disscuss about him as if he weren't there; he got enough of that at the Dursleys'.  
  
Taking in a deep breath, Harry said, very calmly, "I don't know what all Dumbledore told you, but I don't need a keeper." With that, he pushed the door open and headed up to his room. Once there, Harry found that his hunger had abandoned him. Laying his food and drink on the desk, he walked over to the massive window that was to the left of his bed. Climbing onto the sill, he sat with his legs pulled into his chest and his chin resting on his up drawn knees. There, he watched a shooting star fly across the moon lit sky, and prepared to sit out another long, lonely night.   
  
Unknown to him, his door was ajar, and Snape was looking in on the boy, knowing that he had no right to tell the him what to do and wishing he could just order him to eat. Without making any noise, Snape pulled the door shut and walked with a heavy heart to his own room, knowing that he, too, would be watching the night sky and fretting about the demons that stalked his new ward. 


	4. Demons

Chapter 4 Demons  
By, Silver Lighting  
  
  
Ugly gray spread across the sky, holding for a few minutes, before the pink, purple, blue, and gold hues of a summer sun up took its place. Like a ugly duckling into a swan. Harry sat, on his perch, the window sill, watching natures beauty unfold before him and knowing that no matter what happened, there was always a sundown and a sunrise, a chance to start anew. He promised to himself that he would not let anything happen to his sunrise.   
  
Assuming that no one would be up at dawn but himself, he waited a few more hours till it was exactly 7 o'clock before heading down for breakfast. He hadn't had anything yesterday but a few crackers and some cheese and he was, rightly so, famished. Leaving his bedroom, he stole down the stairs and headed toward the kitchen, only to be stopped by the sight of Snape sitting at the dinning table.   
  
"Potter," the older man said, "sit down, the elves will see to breakfast. Why didn't you seek your bed last night?"   
  
The question was so unbelievable, coming from his potions professor, that Harry dropped the spoon he had been playing with. "Because……" seeing that he was about to tell this man about the demons that followed him into sleep, Harry quickly changed his mind and said, "……this place is so unfamiliar, and because I'm not use to it, I was up because of nerves." There! Harry thought. A perfectly believable cover-up.  
  
"Really?" Snape asked. "Then why the mile long bags under your eyes? That alone is testimony to long weeks of not sleeping. Do you not feel comfortable at your Anut and Uncle's, even through you've lived there for 14 years?"  
  
Damn! Harry thought. Why does everyone have to care so much? But really, Harry wouldn't mind if one of his friends, either Ron or Hermione, or ever Hagrid, had asked him about his sleeping problems. But Snape wasn't a friend, or even a family member, not even close.   
  
Going with the first thing that came into his mind, Harry replied, "What do you care? Or is Dumbledore making you?" He watched his elder's nostrils flare, before the usual unreadable mask fell into place over the professor's face.   
  
"Since I am in charge of you for the duration of the summer, or untill father notice, I am in charge of your well being as well. Now, with that out of the way, why were you *really* up all night?"   
  
Harry was saved from answering right away; three house elves walked in, the tallest walking over to Snape and setting a full plate in front of him, the medium sized one carrying Harry's plate to him, and the last and shortest one filling first Snape a cup of storng black coffee, then giving Harry a tall glass of orange juice. "Thanks," he mumbled under his breath, thanking them for the food and their unknown help in giving him time to find an answer to Snape's question.   
  
"Well?" Snape snapped after the elves had returned to the kitchen, sounding like a irritable snake in winter.   
  
"Well, what?" the younger of the two muttered.   
  
"You are so much like your father, it's not funny." his elder retorted.   
  
"Thanks, I didn't think you'd notice," Harry said dryly, not really knowing why he was getting Snape all worked up, just loving it that he couldn't be giving a detention because of what he said.   
  
Finally, Snape gave up, "Fine, I *don't* care. Kill yourself and see if I try to stop you." With that painful parting statement, Snape stood and walked out of the dinning room, leaving behind a full plate and one depressed teenager.   
  
Harry waited a mintue, then stood, snatching a piece of toast off his plate before making his slow way up the massive staircase toward his room, pulling the door half-way-closed. Taking the chair to the oak desk that was against the wall across from the bed, he pulled a quill from an oriently carved silver quill holder and started a letter to Ron, telling him about coming down to breakfast to find the Headmaster and about leaving to come here, to this hated place. Picturing Ron's face when he read about staying at Snape's, Harry smiled for the first time since school had ended.   
  
Adding the p.s., which asked Ron to tell Hermione about where he was, Harry walked over to where Hedwig sat on the sill, watching him as he tied the letter to her leg. "To Ron's, of course, who else?" After the letter was tightly in place, Harry held his arm out, watched as his snowy white owl jumped on to his long-sleeved arm, Moving to sit on the wide window sill, Harry held out his arm and watched as Hedwig took her graceful fight into the bright sunlight.   
  
Watching the only contact he had fly away, Harry realized how alone he really was. He had no one to talk to and no one to listen to. He felt like he was a little kid again, back in the cupboard, without a friend in world.   
  
Pulling his knees up to his chest, Harry stared out into the bright sunny day and hated the feeling of loneness that caused a lump to leap into his throat.   
  
Not for the first time in his life, Harry wished he was just a normal kid, with a mom and dad that loved him and friends' that could come over and hang out.   
  
Sitting there on that stone window sill, the coldness of which was creeping into his bones, making him feel older than he ever wanted to be, watching as life flew by him, Harry Potter vowed that no one else would have to live like him. He vowed that Voldemort would pay for all the heartache he'd caused. He vowed that Voldemort would feel the pain he'd caused ten fold before he died. 


	5. Life

Chapter 5 Life  
By, Silver Lighting  
  
  
By lunch time, Harry's stomach can't take the rich aroma that flowed through his cracked door. It was letting him know, with painful reminders, that he hadn't eaten a full meal in two days. So, unwilling to sit in pain on the cold, uncomfortable window sill while Snape ate like a King downstairs, Harry once more leisurely made his way down toward the dinning area.   
  
Once there, a tiny female house elf dressed in a pink pillow casing, informed him that "Master Snape" had been called away and would not be back till later that night. Overjoyed, Harry ate with more interest than he'd had in months. At dinner, it was no different. It seemed that Harry ate better when no one was about. He didn't have to worry about what other's thought or suffer people's concerns.   
  
Maybe it was the full stomach, or just being so worn out from missed sleep, but whatever it was, Harry fell asleep the minute his dark head hit the soft, feather pillow.   
  
However, peacefulness didn't follow him into Dream World.  
  
***The jerk was powerful, pulling him, father and father into that which he longed never to see again. His hand twiched, trying to pull back, but the magic was too strong, strongrer than any he'd felt before.  
  
His feet slammed onto the glassy ground, hard enough to jar his back teeth. Then he was falling forward, landing face down on the cold grass that covered the gloomy graveyard.  
  
"Harry..." a hollow, rattling voice said to his left.  
  
Harry had not power over his body anymore; his head turned to the side, his green eyes staying open even though his brain was telling them to close.   
  
There, standing above him like the Angel of Death, was a pale, vampire-like Cedric. Condemnation shone in his brown eyes. Hatered rediated from him in waves.   
  
"How could you do this to me?! Huh, Harry? What made you think that anyone was safe in your company?" the evil, hate filled Cedric asked, shoving Harry onto his back and watching as the pain flowed up and down his leg.  
  
"I didn't know, Cedric! I swear I didn't!" Harry screamed. "Please, you have to know that! I swear it on my Mother's grave!!"  
  
Cedric laughted in his face, a breath of death hitting him full in the face, casueing him to recoil. "You mean that grave over there?" Pointing to a small, pitiful stone that marked a over-grown grave sit, Cedric reached down and grabbed Harry by the arm, painfully hauling him up and shoving him toward the stone marker. Cedric started to read the words that untill you were up-close, you couldn't make out. "*Here lies Lily Potter, Wife of James Potter, Mother of Harry Potter* --- The Boy Who Lived, for all the good it did him --- * She gave her life, so that her son might live on.*" Dropping Harry beside the grave, Cedric kicked him, yelling at him as his feet connected again and again with the poor boy's side. "How sweet, isn't it Potter? To bad her death was invain. She shouldn't have died, just forget about you! It's your fault, Harry. Your fault!!"***  
  
Harry was being shaken and could feel a cold hand lightly slap the right side of his faces. "Harry! Come on, Harry, wake up!" was being yelled at him from above, the voice holding worry, anger, and confussion.  
  
Harry's eyes snaped open, staring in the black ones that look down at him. Sitting on his bed, his pale fingered hands painfully gripping his thin shoulder's, was none other then than Snape, his emotion feeled eyes looking deeply into Harry frightned green ones.   
  
The only thing that registered in Harry's mind was that someone was touching him, holding him down. With a blood-curling scream, he fought against the arms that held him, his left hand grabbing the wrist of Snape's left arm and yanked him sharply to the left, causing Sanpe to lose his balance and fall onto the bed, his back expossed to Harry. Using all the strengh he had, Harry placed his hands on the startled professor's back and pushed.   
  
Snape, caught off graud, fell face first into the beding, his arm tangling in the white sheets, which had come untucked from the bed when Harry had try to fight off his dream. Snape rolled on the bed, and with no support and his arm tried before him, and rolled off the off the bed, landing with a loud 'thump' on the hard-wood floor.   
  
By the time he'd untangled himself and sat up, Harry was nowhere in sight. Muttering to himself about idiot teenagers, Snape stood and walked out of the room, looking for the young man before he hurt himself or someone else.  
  
~*~  
  
As soon as Harry had seen Snape going down, he'd taken off like a shot, running blindly out the door and to the left, going farther back into the house, opening a dust covered door and shoving it close after stepping inside. Turning the metal key the was in the lock, Harry waited till he heard the tell-tell sound of light feet going down the hall before breathing a sigh of relief and backing slowly away from the door.   
  
Turning, Harry got a good look at the room he had run to. It was a main room, with an a joining bedroom. A hearth stood against the far wall, covered in dust and cob webs. Sheet covered furniture sat in front of it, looking abandoned and forgotten.   
  
Rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, to keep himself from sneezing, Harry slowly walked forward, his right hand running over the wall, picking up dust and leaving a trail in his wake.   
  
Pushing the ajar bedroom door open, Harry grasped. Inside, sitting amongst dust and dead leaves, was a whitish gray, baby basinet. A light blue sheet had been thrown over the top, forming a dome and blocking the inside from view.   
  
Harry, being the curious teen that he was, walked over to the basinet and pulled the sheet off, letting it fall to the dust-covered floor. The white veil covering the cradle was as white as a wedding gown, untouched by time. Pushing the veil aisde, Harry was met by a frayed, brown teddy bear. It's bottomless black eyes stared up at Harry, making feel for the first time that he was trespassing, not only in this room, but in Snape's life as well.   
  
Stooping down, Harry grabbed the blue sheet and carefully laid it on the basinet. Then, turning, he made his slow way out of the bed room, through the main room, and was just pulling the door shut when Snape rounded the corner.   
  
~*~  
  
Snape felt a moments panic when he saw his charge step calmly out of one of the "forbidden" rooms; the elves weren't even given leave to clean those room.   
  
Following quickly on the heels of panic, was rage. The boy shouldn't even be here, what made him think he had the right to go where he pleased? This was his house and he refused to let the boy off as easy as Dumbledore did at school.   
  
"Potter," he began, only to be cut off by the boy himself.   
  
"I'm sorry," was all Harry could manage, but the remorse in the words themselves was enough for Snape to let he off the hook, without so much as a scold or unkind word.   
  
Snape started at Harry down cast head for a few minutes, before responding, "That's ok, Harry. Go to bed."   
  
Harry walk past the professor, not knowing at the time the importance of the step their hate-hate relationship. It wasn't until Harry was sitting on his window sill with a thick cotton blanket pulled around him that realized that Snape had called him 'Harry', not Potter. 


	6. Closures

Chapter 6 Closures  
By, Silver Lighting  
  
Three weeks had gone by since the nightmare. Since then, Snape had asked no questions, nor had he been with Harry at meal times. Harry didn't slept at night, grabbing instead at dreamless catnaps during the day, sometimes sitting at his desk, sometimes downstairs in the library.   
  
The hunted look that had been in his green eyes was gone, but the dull look remained. He'd put on a little weight; he couldn't see everyone of his ribs anymore. He no longer saw Cedric behind his eye lids when his eyes closed.   
  
And he'd made a few friends --- the house elves. He knew each by name and visited with them often. But mostly, Harry would just sit on the wide window sill in his room; watching the sun rise above the hills that dotted the countryside. There were papers littering the floor under the window; drawing of various stages of a sun-up. Very good pictures they were too, but Harry couldn't see that; to him it was just a way to pass time.   
  
It was one bright, early morning that something unusual happened. Harry was sitting at his desk, touching up an essay for Transfiguration when Snape walked into his room. Well, not really walk, more like felling through the ajar door and landing loudly on the dark blue rug in front of the desk. Jumping up from his chair, Harry stared down at his professor in surprise. "Professor?"   
  
There was no answer. Not that he'd expected one. The older man's body shock to and fro from shudders. Harry leaned over him, grabbing Snape's left forearm.   
  
White hot pain danced down his lighting blot scar. His fingers curled tighter into Snape's arm as a vision played out in front of his eyes.   
  
******** "Serverus, you continue to disappoint me." Red eyes looked down at the withering figure of Snape, who was under the Cruciatus Curse. "You have the boy at your home, yet you can't even bring him to me. I could just walking in and take him, then kill you. Have you ever thought of that?"   
  
Snape's only answer was a low pitched moan as the pain grew.   
  
Voldemort's red eyes narrowed. "So this is what it comes to?" he asked, talking more himself than to Serverus. "Well, all good things most come to an end, don't you think." This time, it wasn't a question. "Good-bye." was the final hiss as the Dark Lord raised his wand to perform the Killing Curse.   
  
There was a small puase. Then, "No," Voldemort stated, lowering his wand and walking to stand over the school professor. "Why kill someone I can still torture?"  
  
Snape's coal black eyes opened and stared up at the madman he had at one time served. Upon hearing the news that he wasn't to be killed, disappointment had rolled over him in great crashing waves. Part of him was ready to let go, go give up. He would have killed himself years ago, but he was too much of a coward.   
  
Of course, Voldermort's unnatural red eyes saw this, and glowed with power. "Wouldn't you like that? For me to end it all for you?" Leaning down till his foul breath washed over his captive, Voldermort asked in a deadly hiss, "But you'll fail once more if I kill you; you'll be the cause of yet another Potter's death. First James, then Lily. Wouldn't it be delightful that your last thought would be that you'd failed again? Can't you feel the hatred that would follow you into the after life? People would curse your name, spilt on your grave. Does that make you want to die? Does it?!" he shouted the last part with a shape kick into Snape's stomach.   
  
Knowing that if he didn't answer, he would only be pounded mercilessly till he answered, Snape whispered, "No."   
  
"I'm going to let you live," Voldermrot said, standing straight once more. He walked toward a heavy oak door, where two solemn faced Death Eaters stood. They pulled the doors open for their Master. Serverous opened his eyes to watch the Dark Lord walk away.   
  
When he was almost out the door, Voldermort turned and said, "Oh, and give Potter my reguards." The door slammed with an empty, dull thud. ********  
  
As the 'vision' faded from Harry's sight, he noticed that Snape had awoke and was staring at him questionably. "We have to leave," Harry said, pulling his professor into a sitting position and letting him go. "Now." he added when he saw that the professor was still watching him and haven't moved.   
  
"What are you talking about, Potter?" Snape said in his usual sneer.   
  
Harry was up and quickly packing away everything in his trunk. Turning to look at his teacher, he saw that he was still sitting on the floor. Then Harry realized that Snape was to weak to stand on his own. Walking back over to him, Harry grabbed his right arm and put it over his shoulder, straightening his bent knees, helped the older man to lean against the desk.   
  
Just as Harry was turning away, Snape seized his wrist and asked again, "What are you talking about? Why would we have to leave?"   
  
Harry pulled himself free of the professor's weak grip and said two simple yet unforgiving words.   
  
"His coming." 


	7. Meetings

Chapter 7 Meetings   
By, Silver Lighting  
  
  
Albus Dumbledore was just sitting down to have a cup of sweet tea in his Hogwarts office when a great roar came from outside. Looking out his window, he saw Hagrid, the gamekeeper, running to the open front gates. Turning his pale blue eyes toward the gate, Dumbledore almost chocked on the hot tea he had taken a sip of. For there, walking as calmly as you please, was Severus Snape, leaning on the young shoulders of Harry Potter.   
  
By the looks of things, Snape was too weak to walk any farther. That theory was proven correct, as Severus collapsed to the soft green grass, pulling the youngster with him.   
  
Turning quickly, Dumbledore ran as fast as his old bones would let him down to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was staying this summer.   
  
~*  
  
Harry watched with guarded, dull eyes as Dumbledore lead the way to the Hospital Wing. Snape was thrown over Hagrid's shoulder in a fireman's carry. Harry knew that he wouldn't wake before the sun went down; he'd been hit too many times with the Cruciatus Curse. He would be very lucky, Harry knew, to wake with his sanity. Very lucky, indeed.  
  
Entering the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey told Hagrid to lay Snape down on one of the two beds that had been made up for them. Dumbledore must've thought that we were both hurt, Harry thought. Sorry to disappoint.   
  
"Mr. Potter," Pomfrey said, "Would you please get on the other bed?"  
  
"Why?" Harry asked, startling the three adults. He'd never before questioned them.   
  
Pomfrey glanced over at the Headmaster before answering. "So that I can examine you."  
  
"I think it would be best to look over the one that's passed out, not the one standing here talking to you," he replied coolly.   
  
He jerked sharply to the right when Dumbledore reached out to him. Again, he'd startled everyone in the room but Snape, who was unconscious. Dumbledore drop his hand, staring at Harry as if he'd never seen him before; Hagrid's mouth was hanging open; Pomfrey had stilled with the sheet she'd been about to place over Snape held in midair.   
  
Taking two steps back, toward the door, Harry watch them all suspiciously. When Hagrid side-stepped the older man, Harry turned and fled the Hospital Wing, running down stairs till he was in front of the Great Hall.  
  
Pulling one of the heavy doors open, he ran into the outside. The sky was quickly turning from afternoon pink to the dull gray of night fall. Harry ran till he reached the weeping willow beside the lake. There, he fell to his knees and rolled onto his back, staring at the sky as the first stars came out.   
  
~*  
  
In the Hospital Wing, Dumbledore was holding Hagrid's thick arm, keeping him back from chasing after Harry. "Give him time, Rubeus. I think he needs that more than anything right now."   
  
"His a seer," came a shaky whisper from Snape's bed. "He 'saw' where I'd been. He 'saw' the Dark Lord coming for us." There was a small pause as Snape tried to get the last bit out. "He 'saw'……… He 'saw' what would have happened to both of us, had we stayed." 


	8. Emotions

Chapter 8 Emotions  
  
  
Harry sat under the willow that lined the lake. His green eyes, blank of emotions, stared unseeingly into the dark waters. Jet black hair was blown this way and that by a slight breeze, but that could not move the still boy. Nothing could reach him in his trace like state.   
  
Not even the darkly clocked figure that stood across the lake, watching the boy with cold, unfeeling eyes. Running through the dark man's mind were thoughts of deaths, those of the past and those yetl to come. Evil flowed like water. Pools of insanity ran over. Murder and mayhem lived in this sick man's mind.  
  
The stillness was complete, unbroken. Now, the man thought, I could take him now and that old fool would never know, never know till it was to late.   
  
He took a step toward the silent boy, but was brought to a stand-still by an unknown force. It held him in a vice like grip, cutting off all movement; locking even his air way, not letting air in or out.  
  
Harry stood, looking at the dark man, a million and one thoughts running through his head. The first of which was that he needed help; his energy was draining and he wouldn't be able to hold the man for long.   
  
Help, he cried in the regions of his mind. Help!   
  
~*   
  
Standing at the hospital wing window, Snape watched as Harry sat in the stillness that had become 'his world'. More and more he would catch the boy just sitting and staring off into nothingness. Turing away from the window, Snape looked around to make sure no one was about. Slowly, he started to unwind the bandage that Madam Pomfrey had wrapped around the Dark Mark on his arm. There was a cooling spell on the cloth, so that the burning would not be as agonizing as it should.   
  
Once the cloth was unrolled completely, Snape tossed it onto the bed, then took in a deep breath before looking at the skin of his left forearm. The freakish magical tattoo stared back at him, the darkness of it contrasting on his white skin.   
  
This is what Hell must be like, he thought. Dark marks against you that can never be removed. And now the boy knew.   
  
Snape had had a feeling that he'd known toward the end of last year, now there was no doubt. All he had to do was tell the right people and Snape would be sent packing from his sanctuary. The job he loved.   
  
Love. Snape laughed coldly at the thought. What did he know of love? Everything he'd ever "loved" had been taken from him. That was why he'd become such a cold-hearted bastard. To save himself from pain. Or rejection.   
  
Whichever came first.   
  
A sudden vision of blackness flashed before his eyes. Followed closely by the silent scream of someone in danger. "Help. Help!" The "vision" was quickly replaced with a clear one of the lake, it's waters still and dead-looking.  
  
Hastily pulling his sleeve down as he went, Snape ran out the open doors of the hospital wing and toward the great hall. Just as he was pulling the heavy doors open, Dumbledore and Hagrid joined him, seeming to come from nowhere.   
  
All three men ran to the lake, each holding their breath and daring not to think about where the images had come from.   
  
But each knew deep down that Harry had sent them a warning and was once again in the clutches of dangers unknown. 


	9. Findings

Chapter 9 Findings  
  
The three men exited the school at a dead run, hopping against hope that what they found would not call for funeral arrangements.   
  
Hagrid was the first to spot Harry. Yelling at the other two that he was under the lone willow tree, he sprinted toward the boy, who was about to collapse from exhaustion. Only when the giant was a few feet from the boy did he notice the still figure that lay at Harry's feet. There was a small pool of blood seeping from under the man, staining the summer's green grass a bitter color.  
  
Snape slid to a stop beside the man that lay facedown in the grass, staring at the back of his pale, blond head in acquaintance and horror. He fell to his knees beside the man, rolling him over to confirm his identity.   
  
The man's face was purple from lack of air, distorting his feathers. The hard planes of his overly pale face seemed harsher, as if he'd finally crossed the thin line between sane and insane.   
  
Snape looked up as Dumbledore stumbled over the uneven, fresh grass and came to rest behind him, staring down at the man Snape had back away from, fear making his body go ridged.   
  
Dumbledore opened his mouth, but nothing came out. After working his mouth for a few minutes, he finally got out, "Is that. . . . Lucius Malfoy?"   
  
Snape looked back down at the man who had tormented him just last night. "Yes," he crocked out, the taste of fear tart and coppery in his mouth. "I . . . I think he still may be alive, but I don't know what charm is on him."   
  
"Headmaster Dumbledore!!" Hagrid called out, sounding as if in great pain. "Please stop 'im! I don't want to hurt 'im!"  
  
Both Dumbledore and Snape forgot about the eldest Malfoy that lay at their feet and headed toward Hagrid's voice. They reached him, surprisingly, at the same time.   
  
The scene that met their eyes was one of great wonder. Hagrid was on his knees with his mighty shoulders slumped, as if a great weight was pushing down on him. Harry stood over him. Eyes white and staring unseeingly ahead of him while black flames shot out from his stiff finger-tips, forming a cloud that rose steadly over Hagrid.   
  
Dumbledore jumped into action, pointing his wand at Harry and yelling, "Pillaso Incarto!" Red flames, like the black ones that Harry was using, shot out of his wand and wrapped themselves around Harry.   
  
Immediately Harry's slightless eyes closed and he toppled to the ground, black flames turning white before disappearing. Hagrid stood slowly, as if his body were about to give out on him. The giant swayed before righting himself. He stared down at the boy a long time before turning away, looking toward the Headmaster. "What's wrong with 'im?" he asked, his voice rough and heart-broken.  
  
A deep sigh answered back. Then, when no one thought an answer would come, Dumbledore replied, "I don't know, Hagrid. I just don't know anymore."   
  
Snape turned away from the fallen boy, looking back to where they'd left the eldest Malfoy. Snape blinked, then blinked again. "Albus…" he tailed off, pointing toward where the old wizard should have been.   
  
Rusty stains on summer's green was the only proof that he had ever been there. 


	10. Fear

Chapter 10 Fear  
  
Harry stared out at the night sky, his mind mercifully blank. His bottle green eyes followed a shooting star that seemed to be falling from the heavens. It's tail was a soft blue-white that had to be, at the least, the size of a Quidditch field. Quickly following the tail, more stars fell, as if the heavens no longer wanted to share the massive night sky with the bright beauties that lead travelers on this moonless night.   
  
He was currently sitting up on his hospital bed, facing away from the doors. A thin, shell-colored blanket was pulled over his thin shoulders, protecting him from the slight chill that seemed to lure the wary into it's icy depts.   
  
Try as he might, Harry couldn't seem to keep his mind from wondering to that afternoon. All he could remember was Lucius Malfoy walking toward him and feeling a warning in the back of his mind. He didn't know how he did it, but somehow, he'd held the older man off without even touching him. Then he remembered Hagrid running toward him and something, a confused part of his mind, no doubt, refusing to let the half-giant near him. When Harry saw Hagrid going down, he'd tried to stop the unknown-force from crushing the giant. Harry would have done it too, except, Dumbledore and Snape had run up to him and the Headmaster had yelled something at him, a spell or incantation of some sort. That was as far as his memories went, before waking in the hospital wing from yet another nightmare.   
  
It was tearing Harry to pieces not knowing what had happened to Hagrid. Never would Harry do something that could hurt the big, gentle man. But for some unknown reason, Harry couldn't let his giant friend near him, no matter how hard he'd tried.   
  
Never had Harry felt more alone then right now, staring out at the night sky, while on the other side of the Hospital Wing door, Snape, Hagrid, and Dumbledore stood talking in hushed voices about what had happened. Finally, the isolation was too much for poor Harry.   
  
Turning toward the door, Harry felt a rush of magic go through him as the swing doors were thrown open and the three adults turned swiftly and looked at the pale young man that sat quietly on the white bed.   
  
"If you're going to talk about me," Harry said lowly, "do it to my face, not my back."  
  
Harry noticed that Hagrid wouldn't look him in the eye, while Snape kept in the shadows. However, it was Dumbledore's reaction that caused Harry to really begin to worry. There was concern in his blue eyes, along with worry, respect and a fine line of fear. Never had Harry seen fear in the old Headmaster's eyes. And that scared him. Because he knew that the Headmaster was afraid of him, Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived… 


End file.
